Skeletons Among Us: Legends of Treasure Book 2 Read online

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Thorne’s greed cost him his life, as years later he would return for more gold on his own. Thorne managed to find the goldmine, as he had taken note of a strangely shaped rock formation as his blindfold was removed. Although he managed to take the gold, he was killed by the Apache on his journey home.

  —“Searching for The Gold of the Lost Dutchman Mine in Superstition Mountain,” by Ancient Origins, May 14, 2016. (Online)

  “WHEN SHOULD WE GO back to the mountain where you found the skeleton?” Beth had spent the last several hours convincing Maria that a return trip to the Superstitions was in order. She was positive they were going to find something to prove Rod’s innocence.

  Maria wasn’t quite so sure. But she figured it gave her something to do except worry, and if Rod was guilty, it might be the best way to find out. Logically, it might be the best place to get a visit from Dakota’s ghost, and Maria had some questions for her.

  “If we’re really going to go, we should do it early tomorrow morning to avoid the heat, but I’m not sure I can find the place again. I was in shock when I came off the mountain, and I didn’t pay attention to where I was.”

  “Could any of Rod’s friends help us?”

  Maria thought a moment. “It’d have to be Derrick. He seems to know the mountains the best.”

  “Well,” said Beth, “give him a call.”

  Maria finally got Derrick on the phone by late afternoon. After a cursory exchange of hellos—Paul Bunyan wasn’t a small-talk kind of guy—Maria blurted out, “Could you help me find the place Dakota’s skeleton was found? Some directions or maybe you have the GPS coordi—”

  “I’d be happy to help.” He paused then added, “But first we should get permission from the Keepers. I could set up a meeting with them tonight. The lodge is open.”

  “What lodge?” asked Maria.

  “The Keepers’ lodge.”

  “Who are the Keepers?” Maria had never heard of that organization before.

  “The Keepers. They’re a group of …” Derrick stopped his sentence prematurely. “Never mind. I’ll explain tonight. Meet me at the Chevron in Apache Junction where we filled up with gas. We’ll go to the lodge together. Seven o’clock?”

  “Sure.” Maria hung up the phone and turned to Beth. “You free tonight?”

  “I’m yours,” answered Beth.

  “I think we’re about to meet the real significant other in Derrick’s life.”

  ***

  The Keepers’ lodge was an ugly brick rambler house built sometime in the 1970s. The cement on the front porch was crumbling, and the lawn was all but dead from lack of care. Why it was called a lodge was baffling. Maria had expected a woodsy, rustic cabin on a forested estate—something up Brian’s alley. The only thing that looked expensive was the BMW parked on the street in front of the house—Derrick’s car most likely.

  As Maria rang the doorbell, Beth glanced at her and made a grimace. “I can already tell this is going to be weird.” Paint flakes from the peeling front door peppered the worn welcome mat.

  “I’m with you.” Maria nodded.

  Derrick opened the door. He looked from Maria to Beth, than back to Maria. He bit his bottom lip and said, “You’re not alone?”

  “Hi.” Beth reached out her hand and gave Derrick her robust Beth-shake. “I’m Maria’s ‘bestie.’ I’m here to help her with … well … all this crap that’s going on.”

  That is why Beth was so awesome. She said it like it was.

  “Materfamilias will not be pleased. She doesn’t like surprises.” Derrick still hadn’t invited the two women in.

  If there was one thing that drove Maria crazy, besides her hallucinated ghosts, it was someone who wasted her time. “Derrick, meet Beth.” She swooped her arm as if she was giving a grand introduction to the king’s court. “We drove an hour to see you. We’d love you to be our guide in the Superstitions because you know your stuff. But if there’s a problem, we can figure out another plan and not bother—”

  “Invite them in.” A woman’s voice with a slight accent came from inside the house.

  Derrick hesitated but then opened the door all the way. The two women walked into the entranceway that merged into a dingy living room void of couches, coffee tables, or televisions. Instead there were picnic benches set in rows and one leather recliner near the front of the room in which an older woman sat. She was dressed in regular blue jeans and a traditional Mexican Huipil sleeveless blouse—white with vibrant red, yellow, and green embroidery work. But she herself didn’t seem Mexican, though where she was from Maria couldn’t tell. Deep set eyes, thin nose, a prominent forehead. What once must have been brilliantly bronzed skin was now deep with wrinkles and dry from exposure.

  The older woman sported large fuzzy slippers, which looked unbearably hot in the non-air conditioned house. A noisy swamp cooler that didn’t seem to be doing any good hummed in the background.

  “I am Sierra, Materfamilias of the Keepers. Derrick has told me of your interest in the Superstitions—my family’s mountain.”

  Maria was about to answer the woman but was distracted by hundreds of maps of all sizes hanging from thumbtacks on the living room walls.

  “I understand you wish to journey again this week to my mountains,” continued the older woman.

  Slowly, what the Materfamilias was saying sunk in. Maria looked at her incredulously. “Your mountains?”

  “Yes, my mountains. I already allowed you once into its depths. Why do you deserve to enter again?”

  Wow. Wow. Wow. This lady actually thought she owned a state park. “I deserve to go to the Superstitions because I’m a U.S. citizen and it happens to be a state park—you know, an open-to-the-public-with-a-minimal-day-fee kind of place?”

  “That’s where most Americans are wrong,” said Derrick. “It belonged to the Peralta family long before the United States stole it. Any treasure in those mountains is rightfully theirs.”

  “I don’t care about any treasure.” Things were making a little more sense to Maria. The Keepers must be a group of hardcore gold hunters who were living in denial that the Mexican Cession in 1848 ever happened. “And if you really want to get technical about land ownership, then the Superstitions belonged to the Native Americans long before the Spanish in Mexico declared it theirs.”

  Sierra shifted in the shabby recliner. “You didn’t answer my question. Why do you deserve to go in it again?”

  Maria had no desire to debate this all night. She turned to look at Rod’s old classmate. “What are we doing here, Derrick?”

  The Materfamilias answered for him. “If you want our protection in the mountains, then you need to get our approval to go into them. Who do you think kept your group safe the last time you entered the Superstitions?”

  “We weren’t in any danger.” Maria flapped her elbows ever so slightly to try and get air to her pits. Sweat was dripping down her sides.

  “Everyone is in danger in the Superstitions.” Sierra glared at Maria.

  “How are they in danger?” Beth hadn’t been able to stay quiet any longer.

  “The Keepers promise safety in your travels.” In a quieter voice the old woman added, “If you sign an agreement that any treasure you find is half ours.”

  This was bordering on ridiculous, but better to play along than waste any more time. “Sure, you can have half the treasure I find. So we’re good to go?” Maria asked.

  “Don’t be condescending. This is real. Why even the astute Rep. Lankin knows to ask for our permission before he ventures into the mountains.” Sierra shook her finger at Maria.

  “Rep. Lankin?” asked Maria.

  “Sure,” piped in Derrick. “He’s even rented a few of the maps.” He pointed to the living room wall behind him.

  Perfect. These people even had a rent-a-treasure-map service. Maria had had enough. “Okay, so do we have your permission or not?”

  The Materfamilias frowned. And harrumphed. �
��If you stay by Derrick at all times.”

  “Gee, thanks.” This time it was Beth who was showing some attitude. Not Maria. “Do we have to pay to have him babysit us?”

  Derrick frowned. “Meet me at the Chevron the day after tomorrow—let’s say 6 a.m. I’ll get you to where Dakota was killed.” Without another word Derrick walked over to an oscillating fan and began fiddling with the buttons.

  “Thanks,” mumbled Maria. She and Beth showed themselves to the front door and let themselves out.

  “Is Derrick brainwashed?” asked Beth as they descended the crumbling cement steps.

  “For sure bamboozled.”

  Beth laughed. “Now that is a great Kanab word.”

  They walked a moment, and then Beth asked, “Are all of Rod’s old friends that weird?”

  “You know,” Maria answered, “I’m beginning to wonder. One thing I’m sure of, though.”

  “What’s that?” Beth rummaged in her purse for her car keys.

  “We’re not waiting two days to go the Superstitions. We’re going tomorrow with a GPS. I’ll ask the ranger there to help us with the location.”

  “Now that,” said Beth with a white-toothed grin, “is the Maria I know and love.”

  ***

  Maria and Beth would have escaped Brian’s house the next morning undetected if the hinge to the bathroom door hadn’t incessantly squeaked and if Amy hadn’t been sleeping on the couch in one of the four living rooms—the one that bordered the door to the five-car garage.

  “Where are you guys headed so early?” she asked, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. A thin microfiber blanket was crumpled at her side. She hadn’t bothered changing out of her clothes from the day before.

  Maria considered lying and then decided not to bother. She wasn’t doing anything wrong. It was the Keepers who were insane. “Going to the Superstitions,” she answered. “Are you feeling okay?”

  Amy looked down at her crumpled clothing. “Oh yeah, I’m fine. I was up late waiting for Brian. I guess I fell asleep without meaning to.”

  “Brian’s been working late?” Was there any way for Maria to have asked that and not sound like she knew something she shouldn’t?

  Apparently not.

  Amy looked at her suspiciously … or was it slightly annoyed? “Yeah, as a matter of a fact he has.” She stood up and smoothed her shirt.

  It was time for Maria to make a quick exit. “I’m sorry we woke you. We were trying to be quiet. Are you okay if we grab some water from the pantry?”

  “Sure.” Amy followed Maria and Beth into the kitchen and into the pantry that was the size of a small racquetball court. In the far end of the pantry were water bottles on the highest shelf. Maria made her way to them.

  “Oh no,” said Amy. “Not those. That’s Brian special water.”

  “Sorry. I didn’t know,” said Maria.

  “Of course you wouldn’t.” Amy let out an exasperated sigh. “I mean who orders their bottled water from the Ukraine?”

  “Not me,” laughed Beth. “I drink mine from the tap.”

  “Brian loves all that fancy sort of stuff. He loves wine testing, exotic chocolate, and super expensive olive oil. Lately he’s been into ostentatious water.” A forced laugh.

  The irony of Amy’s misery was not lost on Maria—a marriage counselor caught in a miserable marriage. How had the woman not seen the signs?

  A sick feeling inched its way into her gut. She was the world’s hugest hypocrite. Talk about her own irony—police chief dating a man accused of murder. Who was she to judge?

  Maria grabbed a couple of no-nonsense bottled waters and waved to Amy on her way out the door. “See you later.” She had a date with the Superstitions.

  ***

  Ranger Ferlund acted nicely enough. Initially, he didn’t want to give Maria and Beth the coordinates, grumbling how the Superstitions weren’t a three-ring circus. But they didn’t give up, and he finally got out his GPS and plugged it into the computer. Maria plugged hers in and the two shared info.

  While the data transferred, the ranger grumbled, “You’re not going to find anything the authorities didn’t. Besides that, a news crew is in the area today making a video segment about the Superstitions.” He sighed. “It’s going to put our PR efforts back ten years. Just when everyone starts to think this is a nice place to come, some filmmakers mess it all up again.”

  “Thanks, Ranger Ferlund.” Maria unplugged her GPS. “And thanks for the heads up about the film crew. We’ll do our best to avoid them.” To Beth she muttered, “The last thing I want to do is end up on television.”

  Maria and Beth checked their gear one more time, made sure they had enough water—a gallon each—and started climbing. It didn’t take long to settle into a good pace. Beth was more in shape than Maria thought she’d be. The two talked steadily for a couple of hours as they followed one of the more remote trails. The cooler morning hours felt great. Come lunch they’d be roasting and would have to take a break in the shade during the heat of the day.

  The GPS steered them off trail, and the terrain became more difficult. Soon their chatting stopped. The sun beat down on them. After another hour or so, Maria recognized something was wrong. Her “being followed” nerve in her neck was sending out radar signals again. Okay, so it wasn’t really a radar—but it was the same sensation she’d gotten in Walmart when Professor Lankin was following them. It was rarely wrong.

  Maria racked her brain. The only people who knew they were here were Amy and Ranger Ferlund. Neither would have any reason to follow them. Perhaps it was time for her to upgrade her internal alarm system. Or maybe her sensor was on over alert because she’d seen a few ghosts when she’d woken that morning. That always unsettled her day.

  “Do you feel that?” asked Beth in between taking a swig of water, her breathing heavy.

  “Feel what?”

  “Like we’re being followed.”

  “You feel it too?” Maria whispered.

  “Yeah. So what do we do about?” Beth asked in a more hushed tone.

  “We speed up, get in a secluded area, and hide. When the intruder passes us, we come up from behind.”

  “Intruder, huh? Sometimes you sound so CIA. But, okay, I’m game.” The two women climbed the next hill at twice their normal speed, scratching their hands and legs on the sharp lava rock. Once on the plateau, they hid behind an overgrown saguaro and a clump of large boulders.

  A few minutes of waiting paid off. A man in a baseball cap, Docker shorts, and a button-up shirt crested the hill.

  He was alone …

  And familiar.

  “Stay here,” hissed Maria to Beth. “This guy is a total creep. I’ll take care of him.” Standing up to reveal herself, she yelled, “Tom, what are you doing here?”

  Tom took a look at her, pulled his hat off, and whistled. “You look great in those shorts, Maria. Rod’s a fool not to put a ring on that finger.”

  The guy had issues. Serious issues. “Rod’s in jail. Funny thing, but they haven’t let him out for ring shopping.” Maria rolled her eyes. Beth snickered behind the rocks where she had stayed hidden, following Maria’s orders. “You didn’t answer my question. What are you doing here?”

  Unfazed, Tom said, “Running into you is making this day into a good one—as if I wasn’t hot enough all ready.”

  “Ew.” Maria glared at him. “Stop it. You didn’t run into me. You’ve been following me. I want to know why.” She took a step toward Tom.

  Tom feigned innocence. “Following isn’t the right word. More like keeping my eye out for you. I didn’t want anything to happen to you or your friend. I kept my distance because . . well … I didn’t want my pheromones to overtake you. They’re powerful stuff. Few women could resist their scent out here in the wilderness.”

  Maria stopped in her tracks. What planet was this guy from? “That would not have been a problem,” she said in the most distasteful voice she could muster.

  “Oh come on.
Don’t be grumpy.” Tom laughed. “I’m having fun. You know, I’d love to see you find your inner salsa, Maria. Rod’s a nice guy, but he doesn’t really have what it takes to satisfy a woman like you.”

  “You’re sick.” To Maria, Tom’s joking had crossed the line. He wasn’t flirting. He was harassing her. If he didn’t knock it off, he’d find out what kind of a woman she really was—one with a rather short fuse.

  “You and me together in the Superstitions. Ten minutes and we’d be making a heat wave that not even Arizona had ever experienced before.”

  Maria had had enough. She reached behind and slipped her hand under her shirt and into the hollow of her back where she skillfully slipped her handgun from its holster. She swung it out in front of her, aimed squarely at Tom. He couldn’t see from this distance that her safety was still on.

  “Whoa.” Tom automatically lifted his arms up even though Maria hadn’t told him to do so. Apparently he knew the routine.

  “You need to learn some manners,” Maria said. “And fast. I want to know why you are following me, and I want to know now!”

  “But…”

  “No buts.” Maria glared at him. “I won’t kill you, but I have no qualms shooting you in the leg—and I’ll make it a place where you’ll be laid up for months. On your back. In traction. Trust me, women don’t find that attractive.”

  “Relax.” Tom wiped the sweat that dripped down his forehead into his eyes. “I was trying to keep things friendly between us.”

  “What are you doing here?” Maria growled. “Last chance.”

  “Okay. It’s not a big secret.” Tom took a swig of water from the water bottle he held. “But why doesn’t your friend come out of her hiding place too before I begin? She can’t be comfortable crouched down like that.”

  “No.” Maria scowled. “Beth stay there.”

  “Don’t think so. I’m cramped.” A second later Beth was at Maria’s side, her eyes wide as she looked at Maria’s gun pointed straight at Tom.

  “Okay, Tom. What’s your story?” Maria held out her hand to stop Beth from getting any closer to the creep.